


Doorbells, Beds And Barrels

by littlemisfit5290



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Fluff and Angst, Prompt Fic, pre-Revival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-10 15:10:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10440588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemisfit5290/pseuds/littlemisfit5290
Summary: Scully needs a favor from Mulder.Multichap prompt fic. Set pre-revival. Starts angsty, gets fluffier.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts- “You’re here and you haven’t tried to kill me yet. You must want something from me.”

He’s in the study, poring over newspaper articles and newsletter printouts spread out across the desk when he hears a knock. It makes him jump out of his seat and he takes a few deep breaths to regulate his heart rate again. When was the last time someone fucking knocked?

Standing up he stretches, runs a hand through his unkempt, messy hair before walking over to the front door. He knows even without opening it that it’s her. It has to be her.

“Knocking’s a little formal isn’t it? I’m surprised you didn’t ring the bell.”

“If the bell was back in working order I would’ve,” she says, proving her point by pressing the small white button to the left of the door frame. When no sound emits from it Mulder rolls his eyes, opens the screen door for her.

“So what brings you by, Scully? Other than to mock my malfunctioning doorbell.”  
  
She doesn’t say anything. Sets her purse down on the coffee table as she surveys the space. The living room seems to have become the bedroom and she doesn’t dare check the state of the kitchen, the mountains of paperwork and coffee cups likely littering the study. She perches on the edge of the arm chair in the corner and Mulder follows suit, flops back on the sofa.

“Scully?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, I was thinking.”

“Care to fill me in?” he asks as she meets his eyes, shakes her head sadly.   
  
His beard is back in full swing, his hair is too long and unkempt, and not the handsome rumpled unkempt it’d be when she’d wake him up with a kiss and run her fingers through it. She lowers her eyes then, afraid if she keeps looking at him she’ll start crying. Not get around to asking what she came here to ask in the first place.

“Well, you’re here and you haven’t tried to kill me yet. You must want something from me.”

“There’s a lot of things I want, Mulder,” she says under her breath before swallowing hard, meeting his eyes again.

“I do need one thing from you though.”

“Name it,” he says, trying not to let too much concern creep into his voice. 

“It’s not the easiest thing to ask for.”

“From me or just in general?”

“In general,” she sighs as she nervously twines her fingers. Now his concern is mounting and Mulder sits forward on the couch. Wants nothing more than to go over and take her tiny, fidgety hands in his. Hold them until they go still. 

“What’s going on, Scully?”

“I had a doctor’s appointment this morning, and my primary asked me to schedule a procedure for the day after tomorrow at the hospital.”

His eyes go wide as soon as she says hospital and she bites her lip, is half tempted to cross the room and sit next to him. Hold him until he loses the panic face.

“What kind of a-“

“It’s outpatient, Mulder. It’s just routine. Now that I’m fifty, screenings to rule out certain kinds of cancer are just part of the deal.”

“Cancer…shit, Scully. You’re not-“

“I’m fine, Mulder,” she says as she stands up, moves to sits beside him on the couch. He’s still wearing his panic face and she honestly should’ve known. Her saying cancer or hospital in reference to herself is a hair trigger for him, for good reason. He’s still trembling and she cautiously reaches over, holds his hand.

“I promise you I’m fine. Colonoscopies are standard, routine screenings. I made you get one!”

“And I’m certain that I blocked it out. That and everything else that came with turning a half century old,” Mulder scoffs as she rolls her eyes, moves away from him slightly on the sofa.

“Look, all I need is for you to drive me to the hospital and then to my apartment afterward. I asked but they don’t just let you hop in a cab, and my mom is visiting Bill this month.”

“You actually asked them if you could take a cab?” he asks incredulously. “That is so you. That is so Scully.”

“Look, will you be able to take me there and home or not?!” she snaps, taking him aback before his eyes narrow.

“You have to ask? It’s not like I have a hell of a lot penciled in my day planner these days,” he says with a scowl as she scoffs, looks away from him. 

“I wouldn’t know.”

He sighs, guilt creasing his face at the look on her’s. She’s still doing that fidgeting thing, looking too damn tense and uncomfortable given that this was her house four months ago. 

“Scully…"

“I’ll text you with the appointment time. It’ll be sometime in the morning,” she says, still not looking at him as she stands up and grabs her bag, fumbles for her keys.

“That’s fine. Whatever time, I’ll be there.”

“Thank you.“

She has the keys in her hand but stops short of walking out the door and Mulder gets to his feet, reaches to touch her shoulder.

“You shouldn’t have had a problem asking me, Scully. I’m sorry I made it into a problem.”

“It’s alright.”

“No. It’s not. It’s not alright that I made you feel-“

“I don’t know how I feel, Mulder,” she admits softly. 

Opening the screen door she steps onto the porch, looking small even in her heeled boots. Reaching the railing she sets her hand on it flat as if to steady herself.

“Like I said, I’ll text you the time.”

“If it’s before five AM I’ll expect a generous tip,” he calls after her and she rolls her eyes, turns to face him. 

“I’ll be there, Scully.”

She nods then, manages a small smile before descending the porch steps. He watches as she gets in her car and drives off, then proceeds to go inside. Read up everything he needs to know about the procedure he previously blocked out.


	2. Chapter 2

He calls her that night. All his reading up on colonoscopy prep has led him to believe she’s pretty worn out but he feels the need to check on her. Dialing her cell he tries to remember the last time he did so. It pains him to realize that he doesn’t.

She answers on the fourth ring, sounding like he’d woken her from a dead sleep.

“Hey. Just wanted to check in. See how you were holding up.”

“I’m tired but I’m fine.”

“We still on for 6:30?”

“Yeah. That’s the plan.“

"I’m still expecting a tip even though we won’t have to leave before 5AM, because I’ll have to be out of bed no later than 5:30 AM, and I feel that warrants compensation.”  
  
She doesn’t so much as scoff at that and he tenses up. Even during late night phone calls when they were partners they could revel in a little back and forth. Some of his favorite conversations with Scully were when they were sleep deprived and giddy and stupid. Or at least when he was. Were they really that estranged now that even banter was a thing of the past?

“Scully, I’m kidding, I don’t need you to-“

“Mulder, where do you sleep?”

“What was that?”  
  
“When you get out of bed tomorrow, is that bed in the bedroom or are you sleeping somewhere else in the house?”

“Actually, the barn out back has got some comfortable-“

“Mulder-“

“I’m partial to the couch, Scully. It’s got nothing on my leather one but there’s not a stick of furniture out there that ever will. I’ve accepted it.”

“You don’t use our…the bed at all anymore?”

“Sometimes if I’m upstairs and don’t feel like heading back down, I…where is this coming from? Do you want the bed?“

She’s quiet on the other line but he swears he hears her sniffle and sits up anxiously on the sofa.

“I wanted it when-”  
  
“When what?”  
  
“When you wanted to be in it with me, Mulder.”

He deflates like a popped balloon, sinks back into the couch cushions before pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

“I’m going back to sleep now,” she says hoarsely. "I need to go to sleep.”  
  
“But you’re not going to, Scully. You’re going to hang up, curl up in a ball, cry into your pillow until your eyes get heavy and then maybe you’ll sleep for an hour. Then you’ll wake up in the middle of a dream or nightmare or for no reason at all, and stare at the ceiling and replay this conversation in your head once more for good measure before you bury it. Before you lock it up in a tiny little box you can tuck away in the back of your mind. Like you do with everything that makes you hurt and makes you cry. You’ll lock it away, you’ll rebuild your wall, and tomorrow morning when we’re in the car you’ll casually make small talk knowing and taking comfort in the fact that I won’t dare bring any of this up again.”

“Are you done, Mulder? Are you finished?”  
  
“I’ll give you the bed, Scully. When I finally see where the fuck you moved to you can have the bed. I haven’t slept in it since the night you left. Maybe it’ll have the reverse effect on you.”

“My bed here is fine.”

“Of course it is,” he snaps before going solemn, sad. “Go to sleep, Scully.”

“I could’ve asked someone else.”

“What?”

“I have friends at the hospital, Mulder.  I actually spend time with people now who aren’t my mother, and any of them would’ve been happy to give me a ride.”  
  
“Why don’t you call one of them then, Scully. You feel sick now, you’ll feel spacey tomorrow. No sense in bringing everything between us into that mix.”

“Why not? If I can just lock the way I feel into a little box that I can bury-”

“I didn’t…Christ, Scully. You know I-“

“I…I know,” she says with a sigh.. "It’s late. We should know better than to do this when it’s late.”

“Unless we’re in bed and can just turn doing it into doing something else.”  
  
“What happens when we stop wanting to do something else?” she asks after a beat.

“Shit like this, Scully.”

“Don’t mention shit to me right now. Please.”

“Sorry. Seriously though, are you okay?”

“Yeah. I just wish that we were-“

“Me too. But I called, you answered. We fought. That’s progress, right?“  
  
“I’m not going to ask anyone else to take me.”

“Well then I gotta be up at 5:30,” he says, a soft smile on his face. “I should try and get some sleep.”  
  
“You should go and sleep upstairs, Mulder. In bed.“

“Scully…”

“It’s better for your back.”

“If you’re wrong can my compensation tomorrow be a backrub?”

“Go to sleep, Mulder.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Scully. Bright and early,” he says before hanging up and reluctantly getting off the couch. Bringing his blanket and pillow back upstairs he crawls back into their bed. Sleeps better than he has in months.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompts- 
> 
> "things you said through your teeth" 
> 
> "Alright. How exactly did your foot get stuck in the barrel?"
> 
> “You better pipe down. I’m not laughing.”

He pulls up outside her apartment building at 6:30 sharp and promptly texts, feeling like a fucking Uber driver as he does so.   
  
Not wanting Scully to regret not taking an Uber, he forces down his annoyance at needing to shower and shave and pick her up at her too new apartment in this too gentrified neighborhood in this too modern building. 

He's reminiscing about her place back in in Georgetown, about them on his couch at Hegel Place when she approaches the car. She thanks him when he gets out to open the car door for her, gives him a soft smile and after seeing her soft smile he doesn’t need to force a damn thing.   
  
The drive there is comfortably quiet, like when they'd have crack of dawn flights to scenic nowhere and weren't up for chatting but were content to be in the car together. 

He makes the effort to not make quips about the prep he knows she endured the night before in order to keep things content. Everything goes smoothly until he walks her into the hospital, and even having read up on everything pertaining to the procedure last night, his nerves kick up when they reach her floor.

“Mulder…”  
  
“You’re sure that this is just a standard…I mean, I only paid for three hour parking. If this turns into some kind of overnight, recovery wing situation I-"  
  
She hugs him then, effectively shutting him up and calming him down.  
  
“I’ll be fine. I promise,” she says, rubbing his back for emphasis as he nods. Forces himself to take a step back and let her walk down the hall with the nurse unaccompanied.  
  
Sitting on an uncomfortable bench he grabs a stack of magazines next to him. Catches up on People and Us Weekly before wandering down to the cafeteria. Getting coffee.

An hour or so passes and he heads back upstairs. Seeing the same nurse from earlier he starts grilling her about Scully’s condition before she relents, walks him over to the recovery room.  
  
“Dana did just fine.”  
  
“Everything checked out then? I know with the procedure that…”  
  
The nurse lets him ramble on about scopes and scans and results and room for error for a solid minute before reassuring him again that everything went fine. She doesn’t open the door to Scully’s room though right away, giving him panic face.

“Is this where you tell me I can’t see her because I’m not her husband? I’m her ride. I was her partner with the F.B.I, I was a witness to her living will. We lived together for-"  
  
“Mr. Mulder, you can go in and see Dana. I just want to let you know she’s still dealing with effects from the anesthesia.”  
  
“What are you saying? She’s not awake?”  
  
“No, she’s awake. She’s just-“  
  
He opens the door and sees her flat on her back in her hospital gown. She’s staring at the ceiling in awe and pointing up at the overhead light fixture. He nods in understanding.  
  
“Oh boy. Yeah, I think I got it from here. Thanks.”  
  
Sitting in the chair by her bed he can’t help but smile, shake his head.   
  
“Scully?”  
  
“It’s so beautiful,” she breathes.  
  
“Yeah, it sure is something. You ready to go?”  
  
“I can’t, cutie."  
  
"Cutie?"  
  
“Yeah. You’re the cutest one, Muller," Scully mumbles. Her hand moves to pet his face and she frowns up at him curiously.  
  
“You got rid of the beard.”  
  
“Yeah. Shaved it off this morning. Figured I wouldn’t earn my tip rocking the mountain man look.”  
  
“Your tip! Yeah…I got a tip for you.”

Reaching onto the table beside the bed she grabs a disposable paper cup and crushes it, tucks it with the utmost seriousness in the breast pocket of his jacket. 

“Don’t spend it all in one place,” she says, patting at his chest before she resumes staring at the ceiling.

“What in the hell did they give you, honey,” he mutters, shaking his head and wondering if he can get his hands on whatever it was. She’s still mesmerized by the overhead light and he wonders the best way to get her attention away from it and back on getting out of the hospital.

“You know if you really can't leave because of the light, I’ll be the first to tell you we’ve got an even nicer one at the house."

"No. S 'not that," she murmurs, raising her left foot a few inches off the bed.

"Well, you're moving your leg like you want to get up. That's a good sign."

“But it's stuck in there. I can’t get up if it's stuck in there."

"Stuck in what?"

Shifting up to a sitting position she gestures to a large object only she can see at the foot of the bed.

"The barrel!" she sputters. "The...the big stupid barrel."

_ Inventive _ , he thinks as he sits forward in his chair. 

"The barrel. Alright. How exactly did your foot get stuck in the barrel, Scully?”

Shuffling closer, her foot unmoving in the invisible barrel she leans to whisper in his ear. 

“They put it there, Muller.”

“Who put it there, Scully?”

“ _They_ did! I saw them do it!"

“Who did?!”  
  
“They did it ‘cause they wanna keep me here."  
  
“Who wants to keep you here, Scully?” he asks, trying not to actually get worried at her words, even though between them and the way she’s looking at him he’s halfway there already. Even if she is babbling nonsense and out of her head, she’s tapping into some all too real fears of his.

She shushes him then, reaches onto the nightstand again for a notepad and a pencil and he tries not to be worried she feels the need to write things down. She folds the paper and hands it to him before he opens it, squints at the drawing of a little, grey…

He shakes his head, crumples the paper and tosses it to the side as she starts laughing. Hard.

“For Christ’s sake-"

“I had you. I had you big time,” Scully says with a grin, folding her legs under her as he shoots her a glare. One that makes her crack up even more.

“You better pipe down. I’m not laughing.”  
  
“You really thought I was that out of it?” she asks, wiping her eyes.  
  
“The nurse thought as much!"  
  
“You mean Rebecca?"  
  
“She pointed at you through the door, Scully! Implied you were having a religious experience because of the light fixture and that I couldn’t handle it.”  
  
Met with another giggle he rolls his eyes.  
  
“She’s one of the people I talk to who isn't my mother, Mulder. When she walked with me down the hall I suggested it. She’s a good sport.”  
  
“Did you ask me to be your ride with a plan to deceive me or was it just a snap decision?”  
  
Mulder scoffs as Scully rolls her eyes, gives him a smile.  
  
“I apologize if I scared you. You did it to me once though. Remember when you woke up in the hospital all those years ago and asked me who I was?”  
  
“You’re telling me that ever since then you’ve been plotting your revenge?”  
  
“Maybe,” she teases before her smile goes softer, sadder.  
  
“Maybe I wanted a recent moment between us that I didn’t have to lock away in my head in order to sleep at night.”  
  
“Scully.."  
  
"One that wouldn’t stop you from sleeping in our bed at night,” she says, the soft sadness in her voice effectively breaking his heart. He swallows hard though, manages a smile.  
  
"I didn't realize you were so concerned for the state of my back, Scully," he quips as she arches a brow.  
  
"I'm at least as concerned as you were when you walked in here and thought I was high as a kite."  
  
"It's not out of the realm of possibility! I've seen you on pain meds before."  
  
"Mulder," Scully sighs. Rolling her eyes she makes a move to get out of bed. "Even on Vicodin after I got shot I was never…whoa. Jesus.”  
  
Swaying as she stands Scully plants her hands on the side of the bed to brace herself, bows her head.  
  
"Scully?"  
  
"I'm fine, I....I just got up too fast."  
  
Mulder’s on his feet and next to her in less than a second, slides his arm around her waist as she takes a deep breath.  
  
"Mulder, I'm-"  
  
"Just humor me, Scully. I'll call the nurse, you get back into bed."  
  
"I’m fine,” she insists, moving out of his hold.  
  
“Are you sure….you look-“  
  
“I’m alright. I don’t want or need any….” Trailing off she bows her head, takes another deep breath.  
  
"I just want to get out of here.”  
  
“That makes two of us,” Mulder scoffs, shaking his head as he brushes past her. Seeing her hands are still gripping the bedrail though he lets out a slow breath.  
  
“Scully…”  
  
“Damn it, Mulder, I’m-"  
  
“Okay, fine. I’ll get the car,” Mulder says. Heading in the direction of the door he glances back to see her taking small, slow, side steps towards the foot of the bed.  
  
When he slowly makes his way back to her she avoids his eyes but feels concern coming off him in waves.  
  
“I’m okay, I just-“  
  
“What?”  
  
“I just don’t want to let go yet."  
  
“So don’t let go. It’s okay, Scully. You’re fine. I’m the only one here.”  
  
He wants more than anything to walk over, hold her steady and keep her upright but knows she’ll fight him at every turn if he tries. Staying in place he watches warily as she continues her tiny side steps before reaching the end of the rail.   
  
She stops moving then, still holds on for dear life. Even across the room he can see that her knuckles are as white as her face.  
  
“Scully?”  
  
“I’m afraid I’m gonna fall, Mulder,” she says after a beat, her voice barely a whisper.  
  
Shaking his head he walks over, eases his right arm around her waist as Scully’s left hand flies up, clutches onto his left shoulder.  
  
“It’s okay. I gotcha.”  
  
“Don’t carry me! I don’t want you to carry me,” she says through clenched teeth, earning a nod.  
  
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”  
  
She nods then, but goes to take a step and instinctively tightens her grip on him, feeling her knees wobble.  
  
“We’ll just take small steps, Scully.”  
  
“Just small ones?"  
  
“Small ones,” Mulder repeats as she nods again, starts a slow, too tense shuffle towards the door. "It’ll be fine."  
  
“You only paid for three hour parking,” Scully reminds, shaking her head in embarrassed frustration. Smiling softly, Mulder holds her a little closer as they inch along.  
  
“We’ll make it work.”  
  
“You promise?” she asks as he turns his head, brushes his lips on the top of her head as they leave the room.  
  
“I promise. We’ll make it work."


End file.
